I Am Hannah

For me it's been comforting through these years of infertility and loss to read about women who have struggled through the same thing.  It's been empowering and calming to know that I'm not the only one who has walked or is walking this road.  It's a daily struggle.  One of the things I like to do when I'm feeling particularly "left out" of the mommy club (and it IS a club...one I desperately want to be a part of...) is to read about women in the Bible who suffered in this way.  I search out the same stories and read them over and over.

The story of Samson's mother who's womb was closed and then she received a prophesy that she would indeed conceive a child...a son who would be blessed by God and she was not to let a razor touch his head...

The story of Elizabeth who was older and had been barren her whole life.  She and her husband prayed and begged God to open her womb, and then God sent an angel to Elizabeth's husband Zechariah to tell him that Elizabeth would bear a son and they were to name him John.  John was to pave the way for the coming of Jesus...

The story of Sarai who was REALLY old and tried every which way to give Abraham children.  And was of course floored when God revealed his plan even in her old age and Isaac was conceived.  He accomplished the seemingly impossible.  She was so shocked she laughed out loud...

The story of Pharoah's daughter who eventually went on to be the adoptive mother of Moses.  She wanted a child and God answered that prayer in an unimaginable way when a baby literally floated right up to her in a basket.  A heavenly gift...

And...

The story of Hannah.  Which is my favorite.  And interestingly enough it was the topic du jour for inLightin (a children's ministry I'm involved with here in Dominica).  While I sat with two or three precious babies in my lap during the last two Friday's sessions, I couldn't help but smile at God's timing and His reassurance through scripture...

Hannah BEGGED God to give her a child.  Begged Him to open her womb.  She knelt, she wept, she wailed.  She promised that if God would grant her this request she would raise her child up in the Lord.  She would "give him back" so to speak.  Her prayers were so fervent that God granted her request and gave her a son, Samuel.  Who was a pivotal character in the Bible and indeed did live his life as an offering to the Lord.

Here's my take:

1) Don't get it twisted.  God didn't *finally* give Hannah a son because she prayed for him "correctly".  He did not grant her request because He "felt sorry for her".  No, Hannah had arrived at the place in her life where she knew the only thing she could rely on in her life's most trying hour was her God.  And I think that this was to be her time all along.  She felt that something was about to give..something was about to change in her life.  And she desperately wanted that change to be a child in her womb.  This was a time when God's desires and Hannah's desires were one in the same.  The worldly and the divine converged and then Samuel was conceived...

2) It was probably not an easy thing to say that she would give her son back to God.  In those days that meant he would live in the temple and live the life of a priest.  It was not a statement to be taken lightly.  But Hannah arrived at the truth that her conceiving a child was fully a "God thing" and she was humbled by this realization.   No matter what, her baby belonged to God.  She was simply the vessel he arrived in.  She was the person God had chosen to raise one of His creations.  And she could do nothing but be obedient to Him...

I AM HANNAH...

I can't tell you the number of times I have knelt (literally) before God and begged him for a baby.  Too many times I have cried to the point of migraines and swollen eyelids asking Him...pleading with Him to "open my womb".  I've shaken my fists at Him.  Wondered "why He gave her a baby and left me hanging".  I've yelled full voice at Him.  I've questioned His judgement.  I've even questioned His existence.  That's a hard thing to come out and say.  But I have.  God, if you're there, if you exist and you love me, then why do my insides feel like they're being ripped out and scorched because of something YOU can change??  I've asked those questions...

Why then do I *still* cling to my God even after years of disappointment, a tragic loss, and frequent bouts of hopelessness?  Why have I not written Him off and decided that He doesn't exist and/or I shouldn't bother continuing to put my faith in His plan?

Because I know that I know that I know that He is faithful.  He is EVERYTHING He's promised.  I have seen full evidence of His existence in my life.  I've seen Him miraculously heal.  I've seen Him miraculously protect.  I've felt His presence.  I've heard His voice.  I've seen His heart.  I KNOW He exists.  And I simply *have* to keep clinging to His promise that He won't leave me or forsake me.  I have to keep believing that I will find Him when I seek Him with all of my heart.  I have to continue to hear Him when he says He will grant me the desires of my heart, of *our* hearts, when we take delight in Him.  I have to understand and accept that He is the ultimate parent.  He's making the hard decisions.  His heart is breaking to see me cry...to hear me weep.  But He knows the plan...he sees the finish line...and He knows there's a beautiful story unfolding.  He won't compromise what He knows is our great adventure to come, just to keep me from crying.  He'll comfort me along the way and *still* finish what He started in me.

He knows the plan.  He's giving me little glimpses of it as we walk this road.  He is moving.  Right now.  He is moving in our lives and Jonathan and I are feeling His presence and His power right now in a real way.  We know something is about to give...

I am Hannah.  I am praying that the desires of my heart and God's plan for my life are about to come crashing together.  I am praying that in my life right now, the Divine and the Earthly are about to converge.  I'm praying for a spectacular meeting of my prayers and His plan.  For ten fingers and ten toes that remind me that the God that I serve is miraculous...